


We Didn’t Train For This

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Gouging, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Graphic Injury, Happy ending???, Horror, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Fuck, Multi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quite literally actually, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, Unrequited Love, Whump, leans a little bit more toward grizavi tho, sorry I am biased
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: Takes place during “Day Forty-Seven” which is not a good day for James Griffin, apparently. Voltron and the Atlas Crew fight a giant space Kraken only for the thing to infiltrate Griffin’s, erm, cockpit with its many gross-nasty tentacles.Mind the tags, this fic is a little messed up.





	We Didn’t Train For This

**Author's Note:**

> I still can’t believe there was a tentacle porn joke in S8. Unfortunately, it was one of the *very few* good parts of that season. But I am not here to rant about my frustration of the finale. Instead I will take out of my frustration on soft bois, like usual, and James Griffin is now up for grabs. Shouldn’t have acted so cute in S8 should he? Lol just kidding.
> 
> I would have done it anyway. 
> 
> This fic was gonna be humorous, but then I realized... I’m not over it. So the pain came. 
> 
> Once again, please mind the tags. This is not a very happy fic. This is open-ended. So if there’s a happy ending here... well, if you want it to be. :)

They had not trained for this.

Well, up until five minutes ago, they had trained for all of it. For James Griffin and the rest of his MFE team, it was business as always. The Paladins of Voltron were having some difficulty involving this giant star-faring creature that could only be described as a “space Kraken”. Five minutes to suit up. Climb up into the jet. Activate interlocks. Connect dynotherms. Get the mega-thrusters going. Ready to depart on Captain Shirogane’s mark.

Business as usual.

Only there was no visual.

Griffin wasn’t particularly worried about that. They had trained for this, too. Electromagnetic radiation of dense gas planets and their nearly invisible occupants was one of their more common simulator scenarios, after all. “Stay close, MFEs,” he told them. “Stand by for Atlas biometric scan.”

A sound echoed through the gas. Low and haunting. It sent a sharp chill up his spine.

”It appears to be a creature that navigates and communicates through sound, much like a whale,” Leifsdottir remarked.

“It’s... kind of pretty,” Rizavi added.

“Focus,” Griffin reminded them.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Kinkade asked.

“Something moved just outside of my jet.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Negative.”

“Yeah, that’s a ‘no’ from me, Boss.”

Nothing moved in the gas. As if there wasn’t just a giant squid-like abomination that just attacked the Atlas, large enough to shake the whole ship to the framework. “How did we just lose sight of a Kraken!” Lance demanded over the comms.

“It’s not a Kraken,” Keith replied with just bare bones patience, and Griffin smirked. Sounded like that guy had his hands full just like Griffin did with Rizavi.

“Visual sent!” came the announcement from the Atlas bridge, and a screen popped up over Griffin’s monitor of a massive, luminescent creature with long tentacles squriming from a bloated, bulbous body.

“I told you it was a fuckin’ Kraken!” Lance barked.

Another long, forlorn cry rose from the depths of that dense atmosphere. It reverberated through the cockpit of Griffin’s jet down to his bones. His hands shook on the controls. He bit his lower lip, to get a grip on himself. His team was waiting for his orders. “MFEs, split into pairs. Leifsdottir and Kinkade, you take care of this side closest to Voltron. Rizavi and I will take the far side.”

 _“Really?”_ Rizavi perked up, like he had just asked her out on a date.

He sighed. “You and Kinkade need to provide covering fire from those tentacles so Leifsdottir and I can get in close enough to the body for a precision strike. You and I can reach the farthest side in the fastest amount of time.”

“Roger that, boss!” It was nice to hear her determination, her dedication to completing the mission and fly at his side. Ever since she had been shot down during the fight with the Alteans, Rizavi’s confidence had been badly shaken. Like she wasn’t worthy to be on the team anymore. But he needed her confidence. And this formation would prove to her that he still trusted his very life in her capable hands. She wasn’t an MFE for nothing, and she needed to remember that.

That movement again. Like a shadow. Just at the edge of his peripheral vision. By the time he had registered it, it was gone again.

Like something was with him inside this cockpit. 

But that was impossible.

 _“Watch out!”_ Rizavi’s exclamation in his ear pulled him back to reality. Bright green tentacles hundreds of feet long rose from the gas beneath them. He could barely maneuver out of the way.

“What the hell — ?”

Some kind of goop dripped from the colossal appendages. Fat drops splattered onto his jet, nearly knocking him off balance. “Don’t let that liquid touch you!” Pidge cried a little too late over the comm link. “It has acidic properties that will eat right through your jets!”

“Good to know,” Griffin grunted, straining to get his MFE back under control. “Rizavi, how are you holdin’ up back there?”

“You’re cleared for the shot, boss!”

He locked onto the creature’s eye. At least, he assumed it was an eye. Practically the size of a small moon, it was a milky sphere like a pus bubble begging to be popped with a dark substance that might be its pupil inside. Griffin’s stomach lurched, his brain already conjuring up images of it exploding in a disgusting creamy splatter just before his thumb pushed the trigger. The jet rocked as missiles launched from beneath the wings aiming straight for that eye.

_It’s gonna explode, it’s gonna explode, it’s gonna explode..._

That milky disgusting eye is gonna explode..

The missiles hit their mark in bright flashes. The low whale-like moan crescendoed to a high-pitched shriek that rang painfully in his ears, the sensors of his jet fizzing at the sound. “MFEs, fall back now!” Keith ordered.

Much as he hated having to listen to that guy, Griffin had little choice in the matter. He had a squad to protect. “Copy that,” he replied alongside his team. “Good work, Rizavi. We’ll have to use a micro-pulse boost to get back to the Atlas. We’ll head back together. On my mark.”

There was nothing but static for a reply.

“Rizavi?”

His stomach sank.

“Rizavi, I really don’t need you to be fooling around right now. Can you hear me? _Nadia!”_

She didn’t even indicate that she had been hit, or that anything had gone wrong. “Does anyone have any visual on Rizavi?”

No answer from anyone. Just static. And a strange hissing sound.

He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see her anywhere. He told himself that maybe because of the interference, she had already went back for the Atlas without waiting for him. No, that didn’t sound like her. She was always the one who was the most adamant about the team sticking together, about making sure everyone was going home, no Airman left behind. Yet, deep, deep down in the heart of his instincts, he really, really hoped she had abandoned that philosophy for her own sake.

The static raged in his comm link and that hissing grew louder and that low, low, haunting moan shook his jet. The chaotic static crackled and grew and then a word he could barely hear..

_“..pfffftzzzzzztttttttt...ccrrrszzztt — ccccaught — fffsszzzzzttttzz —“_

Heat exploded over his leg. _“What the fuck — !?”_ he screamed, more out of surprise than pain.

That hissing was tiny drops of that acid eating through the shell of his cockpit to drip onto his leg. One single drop seeped right through his suit, reinforced with Altean fiber that should render it virtually indestructible, right to his skin.

His jet banked sickeningly.

He needed to get back to the Atlas. But his mind was already getting fuzzy. A fog with that same milky consistency as that eye clouded his mind, making it difficult to focus. Poison?

The heat spread from his thigh to the rest of him. It tingled, fizzed along his nerves, like his whole body was going to sleep. Ah, but it was strangely pleasant.

Definitely poison.

“Griffin to Atlas,” he wheezed, trying to steady his breath, trying to keep panic from overtaking him as his survival instinct launched into high gear. The heat under his skin grew deep in his belly. He trembled all over as anticipation welled up from that molten pool between his legs.

James Griffin was your typical 22-year-old male. He recognized this feeling, even if it was suddenly ten times more intense and extremely out of place. He won’t lie. The adrenaline rush of battle and flying an MFE jet did sometimes — sometimes — arouse him.

Space spun wildly around him, jet out of control and he couldn’t focus enough to get her back on track. If he could just get to the auto-pilot, the emergency commands would have her fly herself back to the Atlas with no help from him. The fog in his head grew thicker, that eye staring at him, staring him down...

The shadows from the corners of his eyes grew thicker, longer. Until they wrapped themselves around his body. First his thigh, where the heat began, wrapping tight, squeezing mercilessly. Then his other thigh. Then his arms. Rendering him unable to move, unable to reach for the auto-pilot control.

Griffin’s eyes widened in horror when the shadows turned out to not be shadows, but wriggling, thick, luminescent green tentacles that had materialized into the cockpit. His biometric screen showed that one tentacle had wrapped around his jet, shaking it to and fro. Static screamed in his head. Maybe the others had realized what had happened. Maybe they were on their way to come get him.

They... they wouldn’t leave him out here, right?

And then his next thought: did it matter? He was dead already.

The tentacles, those slimy, mucus-green tentacles holding him down poked and prodded at his suit like individual living creatures. One smacked wetly against his helmet, grass cracking.

No, no! _NO!_

As if in revenge, a drop of that hot acid seeped through the crack to drip into his left eye.

He screamed as his stomach lurched in hot, nauseating pain.

And screamed. And screamed.

And no one could hear him.

The milky fog in his brain dissolved to inky blackness as the shock nearly made him faint. Too bad all of his training prevented him from fainting easily, to withstand G-forces and such. Excruciating pain wasn’t that much different.

A tentacle wrapped around his helmet and tugged and for a terrifying moment, he thought the thing had ripped his head clean off his neck in a mercilessly painless way.

His helmet smacked somewhere in the cockpit while his head remained very much intact. Griffin swayed in his seat, dizzy, weak, head throbbing, something like jelly rolling down his left cheek. “My eye, my eye,” he whimpered over and over. He couldn’t see out of it. He couldn’t see out of it at all! His stomach knotted sickeningly all over again.

Suddenly, a tentacle shoved itself into his mouth. He gagged, saliva trailing out from between his lips as the tentacle went for the back of his throat. The goo on his tongue was hot and tasted like heartburn as the appendage pumped his mouth. Deep throating him again and again.

He groaned.

The tentacle shivered. Was this thing actually getting _pleasure_ from this?

Was **he** actually getting pleasure from this? Something about having his mouth stretched open, to take in something so big all the way to this throat, he liked that. He sucked, if anything to try to get some of his spit from filling his mouth too much, and he liked that, too. Somehow, the tentacle goop didn’t taste that bad, leaving a strange lingering sensation like licorice.

Is this what Kinkade would feel like in his mouth?

The thought surprised him. But then again, was it all that surprising that, during this horrific time, he thought of his team? His team who had been there for him again and again. His team who should be safe back on the Atlas instead of coming to get him, leaving him out here alone, abandoned —

He shook his head, and he gagged again when the tentacle pushed further into his throat. He sucked eagerly, focusing on sucking on Kinkade. Ryan would probably be a little gentler than this, but Griffin hoped not. He liked the idea of the bigger man grabbing his hair, fucking his mouth wildly, using him.

Other tentacles slithered over his body and began tearing into his suit, the _zzzzztttttzz_ of ripping fabric joining the static. Griffin smirked. That would be Rizavi. She wasn’t one to wait for anything. And it’s not like he didn’t know. He was not a heavy sleeper by any means, and sometimes the small movements in the bunk above him stirred him awake. He could hear her quick breath in the dark, the softest, softest whisper of his name as she touched herself in the dark. Like the attraction wasn’t mutual. Like he hadn’t laid there trying desperately not to whisk her away to the bathroom in the middle of that night and let all her dreams come true against the wall. Like he didn’t sometimes wonder what her round little ass wiggling on his lap would feel like.

Slithering, slimy tentacles ran themselves over his body, exploring every curve and crevice of his muscles. He yelped around the tentacle in his mouth when they pinched at his nipples with little love bites. The slimy heat hardened them and then the little suction things sucked on them, and he moaned with bliss, his remaining eye rolling, face flushed bright red.

Those tentacles trailing down his body he imagined as the hands of his oh-so-attractive teammates exploring him, the three who have teased him and toyed with his desires for the past several years, made him feel guilty for being attracted to three people at once.

 _Please,_ he begged. _Please. Please._

One tentacle finally — finally — wrapped around his aching cock. Ah, yes, Leif. It was difficult to tell whether she would be shy during this sort of thing or not, but she would be matter-of-fact about it as she was with everything. She probably wouldn’t hesitate to take his dick into her mouth, lips wrapped so cutely around him, blue eyes questioning if she’s doing good and, oh God yes, she’s doing so good.

That tentacle sucked him vigorously, and another rubbed him up and down, filling his head with thoughts of Nadia joining Ina at his dick, those two gorgeous girls pleasuring him with their mouths, their kitten licks driving him crazy. And then there was Ryan, bent over him, fucking his mouth rough and demanding, Griffin such a good little airman to be so eager to submit and do as he’s told by his betters.

Griffin came. Unable to handle this fantasy, these sensations, the pleasure became too much for him to bear anymore. His spine arched sharply as milky cum shot out of his cock, covering the tentacles pleasuring him. Mmmm, Nadia and Ina, covered in his cum. Nadia would probably yell at him. It would be cute. The tentacle in his mouth spurted long strings of slime down his throat, Ryan coming in his mouth, forcing him to swallow everything.

Then the tentacle moved out of Griffin’s mouth, pulling long strings of his saliva and its slimy goo, and that’s when the fantasy completely shattered.

The tentacles at his cock started up again, as if it realized he was going flaccid. “W-wait!” Griffin gasped out, more goo than words coming from between his teeth, throat aching hotly. He needed to recover. He was so, so sensitive right now, like his body had been dipped in phosphorous. The creature ignored him, tugging at his skin, his nipples, his cock. “Wait, stop!” He managed to form the words from a barely there whisper to a full blown scream. “Stop! NO!”

He thrashed to no avail, the tentacles holding him in place now bending him until his knees rose above his head. One long slimy tendril slithered over his asscrack, hot and skeevy, spreading his cheeks as it played with his anus.

“Please, don’t,” Griffin whimpered pathetically, tears running down the remaining eye he had. “Please.”

But of course, the creature couldn’t understand him. Or maybe it did. Because one tentacle slowly, almost tenderly, stroked his cheek. And a thought overtook his mind, that he should go back to his fantasy, seek comfort in his teammates he longed to be beside.

They left him.

But not in here.

Here, they could be with him. Here, they would show him with their bodies just how much they wanted him in return.

The main tentacle, so large, so bulky and slimy, started to enter him.

“Don’t,” he begged, so softly he was hardly aware he was even speaking, the last of his survival instinct clinging to reality. “Don’t. Please.”

He cried out as the tentacle entered him, stretching him wide open, like he was gonna split right down the middle. Yet, it strangely was not painful. It was weird, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly just full. So full. He never felt so full before.

It felt... **good.**

Oh, fuck it felt so good.

This time he opened his mouth in a slutty invitation for the tentacle he had been sucking on to come back to him. He moaned with pleasure as it did without hesitation, burrowing itself in his throat and thrusting hard, covering his face with slime and tears. Ah, filled from both ends. As the tentacle in his ass began to thrust in time with the one his mouth, he could only think of Ryan’s massive cock pounding him, rubbing against his virgin prostate. Ina would be standing over him, his face pressed into her hips as she thrust a strap-on into his mouth over and over.

The tentacles wrapped tight around his cock, rubbing him up and down, or was it Nadia’s cute cunt that she liked to finger so much bouncing on him?

He came again. And again. Over and over, his orgasms tore through him, his lap sticky with slime and his own cum. And each fantasy got more and more depraved, until he wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking anymore, reduced to nothing but sexual urges he could no longer control. Because at the end of the day, that’s all humans are, right? Just depraved sexual beings whose only, ultimate purpose is to continue the species. Thoughts, feelings, dreams... none of those things mattered anymore. Even the feelings he had for his team were lost at some point back there. Now, he just wanted to claim them and be claimed by them, nothing more, nothing less. And then they just weren’t there anymore, and it was just these tentacles, these creatures giving him whatever he desired.

Wrapped tight around him, those tentacles fucked every orifice he had, except, mercifully, where his left eye used to be.

 

* * *

 

He woke up nauseous.

At first, Griffin wondered if it was something he had eaten at the chow hall for dinner last night. What did they have last night, meatloaf? It had been meatloaf, right? Normally, meatloaf didn’t make him sick.

It was unusually bright for the quarters that he shared with the other three pilots. Usually he was the first one to wake up, so usually he was the one to turn the lights on. He hadn’t heard Rizavi climb down from the bunk above him, and he wasn’t a heavy sleeper. Sometimes he could even hear... her...

“Griffin.”

That heavy, breathy voice. In the middle of the night. The slightest, soft occasional creak above as she...

“Griffin.”

He stayed very still, pretending to be asleep. If he woke up now, it could get very awkward in here very quickly.

“Should I slap him?”

“Nadia, you’re not slapping him,” he heard Kinkade clearly say.

“But it works in movies!”

“Actually, I believe a kiss of true love is what works best in movies,” now Leifsdottir’s voice pointed out.

Sputtering. “Wh-what!?! Kiss _Griffin!?_ EWWWW!!!!”

“Oh, please,” the other two pilots immediately said.

He couldn’t resist responding at this point, letting his eyes flutter open and a grin play on his face. “That actually kinda hurts me, Rizavi,” he said, voice gravelly and soft.

The three of them blinked at him in surprise. Rizavi was the first to speak, yelping, “You’re awake!” with tears clinging to her eyes. Despite her protests about kissing him not moments before, she practically threw herself on him when he sat up. “I was so scared! Your... your radio... it just... it just went completely dead. And that tentacle, that gross tentacle, it grabbed your jet, and you weren’t saying anything, there was all this static — !”

“Calm down, Nadia, let him breathe,” Kinkade said gently, prying her off him. “He’s okay now without you trying to suffocate him.”

“What happened out there?” Leifsdottir asked. “Your vitals were off the charts when Voltron brought you back. They said you almost went into cardiac arrest.”

Ah, so Voltron came to his rescue, did it? Now he owed Keith, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. He could barely remember anything. Just milky fog and pleasure like he couldn’t believe. He reached up to touch where his left eye used to be... except, it was still there. Intact. He closed his other eye, and could still see just fine.

The others exchanged glances. “Your eye okay?” Kinkade asked.

“Yeah.” Surprisingly, yeah. Because Griffin was pretty sure it had popped like a grape when the acid ate through it. And then he couldn’t help asking, cheeks a little flushed, “H-how was I? When I was found?” He clutched the blanket in his fingers, shame overcoming him. How was it he was even able to face these three, after thinking the thoughts he had about them, after enjoying fantasies of them while being raped by a space tentacle monster?

“You were unconscious,” Leif supplied.

“That all?”

She tilted her head at him. “All?”

Griffin curled back into himself. Rizavi scooted closer to him, placing her arms around his shoulders. “Hey,” she said softly. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? You’re acting like something really bad happened.”

She stared at him with golden eyes filled with concern and tenderness and something much more. How could he have not noticed before how she felt about him? And if Rizavi felt that way, maybe the other two were not far behind her.

That thought did not comfort him.

He was shaking. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips trembled.

The mattress of the infirmary bed dipped as Kinkade sat down on his other side, letting Griffin lean on him. Leifsdottir sat down, too, and placed her pale hand over his. “Coran told us that those particular creatures defend themselves with an overwhelming psychological attack. It’s also how it traps its prey. It’s an astral being that feeds off the intense emotions that result, and it moves to the physical realm whenever it needs to feed.”

“That sucks,” Griffin remarked. He didn’t mean the pun, but it was lost on the others anyway.

”Psychological attack?” Rizavi asked.

”Like a nightmare,” Kinkade clarified. “It used a nightmare to stir intense emotions within Griffin.”

“And then it like... what? Ate his nightmare juice or something?”

“Nadia, please,” Kinkade groaned.

“I’m just trying to make sense out of it!”

“I guess you could say it is similar to the mythology of the succubus,” Leif offered, and boy, did that hit the nail on the head. “Only a nightmare instead of nocturnal emission.”

Or both. But Griffin didn’t say that out loud.

“A nightmare,” he repeated instead. “So... it wasn’t real.”

All in his head.

“That’s how they found you,” Kinkade said. “You were alone, strapped to your seat. Unconscious. Your MFE had no damage done to it. You just...” He hesitated for the briefest moment. “...you just went silent.”

“Hey.” Rizavi very slightly tightened her grip on Griffin’s shoulder. “You wanna talk about it? Talking about my nightmares to my sister always made me feel better.”

“No, but thanks,” Griffin said, giving her a small, appreciative smile. “It was just a bad dream.”

Except it wasn’t. Those were his thoughts, his desires, brought to the surface to be some astral entity’s appetizer. The thing didn’t put them in him, they were already there, inside him.

Maybe one day he would be able to tell the three of them how he felt about them. Especially Nadia. Sweet, ridiculous Nadia. She absolutely needed to know.

But not now.

Not with what had happened to him so fresh in his mind.

It might not have been real, but it was real enough for him.

Sandwiched between Ryan and Nadia, their warmth calming him, Ina’s hand on his, it kept him grounded. Let him stay this way for just a little bit longer, while they would still have him.

”All those tentacles,” he whispered as he drifted away in the watchful presence of the three people he had come to love so much. “So nasty.” 

Let it just be a bad dream and nothing more.

_Please._


End file.
